like coming home
by garden of magnolias
Summary: They're not strangers, but they're not friends. Just something in between.
1. they're not strangers or friends

**a/n:** happy late christmas and happy early new year! (maybe this will compensate for my lack of updating on here)

also, please excuse any typos. i tried something different here and i'm not sure how i did. the rating will go up later on.

**rating:** T+

**warnings:** strong language

**disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

><p><em>like coming home<em>

**.**

**...**

**.**

"Tell me again," says Ichigo, fingers applying pressure to his temples in a vain attempt to control an oncoming headache. He feels it spreading across his forehead, making him wish he had stopped by the nearby café and gotten another cup of coffee because it's only Monday and he's already wishing the week was already done and over with.

Keigo chuckles nervously and tries to create space by slowly inching his chair away from Ichigo. Feebly, he motions at the blaring computer screen that holds all the input and output data for the library. "Well, um, it's like I said Ichigo, I forgot the put in the passcode last Friday so it didn't save all the returns."

Exhaling deeply through his nose, Ichigo lets the information sink in and when it finally does, he tries his best not strangle Keigo. "So what you're telling me is that we have all of _Friday's, Saturday's, and Sunday's_ book returns to do?"

Keigo coils into himself, reacting to the dangerous aura radiating from Ichigo. Still, he manages to shrugs his shoulders to diffuse some of the tension. "I mean, it's not like a lot people even bother dropping off their books on the weekend anyways . . ." Ichigo's glare has Keigo trailing off and looking towards a dusty corner of the office. He swallows thickly before admitting, "But technically yes, we need to redo Friday's book load."

"I really fucking don't like you right now, Keigo."

"B-But it's okay!" proclaims Keigo hastily, hands fidgeting. "We can totally catch up and I'll even stay after my shift is over to help you!"

Ichigo glowers, eyes narrowing. "How kind of you to take some responsibility of your own stupidity."

Before Keigo can say anything more, Ichigo heads to the back and dumps his backpack onto one of the cluttered tables. "Shit," he grumbles under his breath as he begins pushing one of the carts full of books to the counter so he can swipe them back into the system. _"Shit, shit, shit."_

It's not that he's truly mad at Keigo (well, he is, but there's several levels to his anger and they haven't reached any of the life threatening ones) and it's not like the work is all that difficult really, but Ichigo has midterms he desperately needs to cram for, and with soccer practices running later than usual, he's too tired and too sleep deprived to even bother touching his textbooks once he returns to his apartment.

Which is why he had accepted the job at the on campus library; it gave him a place where he could sit in a quiet area and study.

Annoyed, Ichigo begins scanning the books' barcodes and arranging them into piles. It's boring work that leaves his mind to worry and stress over the quiz he has tomorrow and essay due the following day. He has no idea where he's going to find the time to prepare for either one—he could just skip the quiz and lecture all together and actually begin the paper, especially considering he'd been given over a week to work on it.

College definitely does not get easier over the years.

"Keigo," snaps Ichigo once he finishes, slamming one collection of articles a little too roughly, "start the next rack. I'm gonna put these ones back."

He returns the books onto the cart and starts at aisle 4, section BOK. Like clockwork, he slips them back into their rightful place, occasionally finding some misplaced books—undoubtedly Keigo's doing—and fixing those as well.

As Ichigo turns into another aisle, something catches his attention from the corner of his eye. He glances over to find a familiar auburn-haired girl settling into one of the tables near the back.

Orihime Inoue is a regular, always showing up in the early afternoon to read or nap a little. Sometimes, Ichigo catches her doing schoolwork, but most of the time she pulls out a sci-fi novel and buries her nose in it.

That's initially what caught Ichigo's attention.

She seldom checks out anything from the romance section, always opting for stories about aliens and robots over three inches thick. And as strange as it may seem to other people, Ichigo finds it endearing. He'll watch her from afar as she loses herself in the writing, face openly expressing her shock or amusement to whatever she reads.

It's cute, even when she tears up when one of her favorite characters dies.

Orihime must feel Ichigo's probing gaze on her because her gray eyes flick upwards and meets his despite his attempts to remain unnoticed. A faint flush of color grows on her cheeks as she offers him one of her bright smiles.

The corner of Ichigo's mouth perks up in return before he resumes his work. He ignores the way his ears start the heat up from the friendly gesture, reminding himself that it's silly to get flustered over Orihime's kindness.

Shaking his head, Ichigo refocuses on alphabetizing a shelf Keigo completely butchered, wondering how his friend was even accepted into their university.

**.**

**...**

**.**

A little bit over an hour passes by when Orhime approaches the front desk, book clutched against her generous bosom. Pausing from re-inputting Friday's log, Ichigo gets up from his seat to help her. "Hey," he says, leaning against the countertop.

"Hi Kurosaki-kun," greets Orihime sweetly, sliding over the novel and her school I.D. "I'm rechecking this one out."

They're not strangers but they're also not exactly friends, most of their interactions limited to the library. But Ichigo enjoys talking to her; she's good-natured and takes the time of day to make some small talk. It's something hard to find in Tokyo where it seems like people are too busy to bother over anyone other than themselves.

Ichigo lazily raises a brow. "You liked it that much?"

Orihime laughs a little self-consciously as she takes back her card and neatly returns it into her mint colored wallet. "Not exactly," she says, "I haven't finished it yet."

"Seriously?"

The book is rather small compared to some of the other series Orihime has completed in the past. Ichigo has noted that she devours books like food, finishing even the books she's mentioned as not particularly interesting. So it comes as a bit of surprise that she hasn't been able to maintain that standard.

Orihime noses scrunches up a bit, making Ichigo want to reach over and pinch it. "I know," she concedes gently, "but I have midterms, so I haven't had much free time."

Ichigo nods in agreement and passes the book back. "I get you."

She slips her novel into her tote bag but stays rooted to the floor as she tilts her head to the side, hair spilling over her shoulders in long waves. "You look tired," she points out, voice laced with obvious concern. "Are you taking care of yourself, Kurosaki-kun?"

It jars Ichigo. He's not quite used to people fretting over his wellbeing; his friends just assume the exhaustion comes with the student-athlete responsibilities. And according to his coach and the team, as long as his legs are still working he can suck up the all-nighters and continue the endless cycle of matches and practices.

And besides, Ichigo absolutely _hates_ the idea of appearing weak in front of anyone. He does his best to keep his sisters from worrying over him, constantly reassuring them that he's doing okay in school and soccer even when he sometimes feels like he's in over his head. Plus, what would he gain by complaining? It wouldn't change the situation; he'd still have large amounts of readings to catch up on along with 7 a.m. conditioning workouts.

"Don't worry about it," he gruffs out and he inwardly winces at how defensive and rude he sounds. "I'm fine."

This however does not derail Orihime. Her expression softens in understanding and Ichigo can feel himself loosing another small part of his heart to her. "Just make sure to rest, okay?"

He nods once. "Thanks."

Orihime waivers for just a moment, as though she wants to say something more, but Ichigo knows his demeanor has her holding her tongue and for that he hates himself. So instead, their conversation ends sooner than usual and leaves him watching silently as Orihime bows slightly and leaves.

Keigo whistles from behind him. "Wow, way to fuck that one up."

Ichigo grinds his teeth together. He feels like kicking his own ass for acting like such a jerk when Orihime was just trying to be nice. Pissed off at his inability to at least act with some manners, Ichigo grabs his jacket and shrugs it on. "I'll be back," he mutters. "I need coffee."

"Bring me back some!" calls out Keigo.

"Hell no."

**.**

**…**

**.**

"Come on, get those feet moving!"

Renji casts a dirty look over his shoulder at their team captain, Ikkaku, who busies himself by shamelessly flirting with the stats girl, Nanao. "That bastard," he mutters as they begin another round of ladders. "Must be nice not to do shit."

"Leave him," says Toshiro, cleanly completing a set of the Icky Shuffle, "Nanao is just going to turn him down again anyways."

"Exactly!" presses Renji, missing a step and accidently bumping into Izuru. "So instead of wasting time on that, _he should get his ass over here and suffer with the rest of us!"_

Renji's obnoxious voice carries over to the benches where Ikkaku stands with Nanao, effectively interrupting whatever conversation they were having. It gives the bespectacled girl the opportunity to slip away and head to Coach Shunsui's side.

"You fucking cockblock," hisses Ikkaku when he returns, jumping in with the rest of them and successfully throwing Renji off balance with a little shove as they start lateral jumps. "She was about to give me her number."

Ichigo dodges Renji as he stumbles forward and crashes into Izuru again.

"Okay," deadpans Shuhei, "let's not get crazy here Ikkaku."

"Shut the hell up, you walking STD," snickers Ikkaku. "I was actually getting somewhere with Nanao."

"I think you mean nowhere," pipes up Yumichika, smirking evilly at his best friend. "We all know Nanao has a crush on old man Shunsui."

"That's because she's not aware that she has options."

"You're more of a last resort, Ikkaku," says Toshiro dryly.

"Oi! That's no way to talk to your senpai you shrimpy little shit—!"

Ichigo's elbow to the gut effectively shut's up Ikkaku as their coaches approach them, Nanao trailing right behind with her clipboard in tow. He can hear his baldheaded friend muttering about disrespectful underclassman as their assistant coach, Ukitake, explains the drills they'll be running.

After Yumkichika and Renji distract their coaches by asking ridiculous circular questions for five minutes to avoid taking the pitch, Ichigo heads over to the goalie's box to work with Toshiro on his penalty kicks.

"Best out of five buys lunch?" wagers Toshiro, spinning the ball thrice and then setting it down meticulously onto the freshly cut grass.

Tightening the velcro straps of his gloves, Ichigo takes his position. "Wouldn't it be easier to just hand over your money beforehand?"

"You're so full of yourself, Kurosaki."

"Whatever, Shorty."

Ichigo gets pleasure in seeing the white-haired boy glower at him with his icy blue eyes. He's well aware that blocking three of Toshiro's kicks is no easy feat, there's a reason why he's the only freshman with a starting position and as their forward no less, chasing the record for the most goals in a season.

It shows when Toshiro quickly scores two in a row.

"You do know that the point of your position is to stop the ball, right?" taunts Toshiro as he sets up for another round.

Ichigo glares but says nothing. Instead, he braces himself, arms spread apart and feet ready to lunge to either side. Brows furrowing, he analyzes how Toshiro makes his approach, noting the way his teammate steps a little differently this time.

Without hesitating, Ichigo leaps to his right and deflects the ball from entering through the upper corner with a large hand. "You were saying, _Shiro-chan_?" he counters as he straightens himself up.

Toshiro immediately kicks the next ball directly to Ichigo's gut, knocking the breath out him. It forces him back a few steps before he can regain his balance.

"That nickname's off limits, bastard."

"Why?" says Ichigo, still breathless. It never fails to shock him how the smallest player on the team manages to outdo everyone. "Is your girlfriend the only one allowed to call you that?"

A rush of blood climbs up Toshiro's neck in both embarrassment and anger. He splutters for second, until he grinds out, _"Leave Momo out of this."_

Toshiro's next kick doesn't float over Ichigo's head the way it usually does, catching too much momentum and making it an easy overhead grab.

Ichigo has had enough sessions with Toshiro to read his technique and know what's his go-to trick when the game is on the line. And like he expects, the next shot looks like it'll head straight on but suddenly makes a sharp arc left. Ichigo barely gets a finger on it but it's enough to throw it off course and ricochet off the pole.

"Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face," grumbles Toshiro as they jog over to the sidelines for a drink of water. "That was a low blow and you know it."

"Whatever makes you feel better."

Practice finishes early, giving Ichigo enough time to shower and head to his Shakespeare lecture. He walks part of the way with Renji who figures he might as well show up to his Statistics section so he doesn't completely bomb the upcoming exam.

"Everything okay man?" Renji asks him, offering half of a protein bar.

"Yeah." Ichigo washes it down with a long swig of Gatorade. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Renji shrugs. "Just seemed a little out of it today. Yumichika actually got one by you."

"It was out of pity."

Rolling his eyes, Renji drops the matter by simply stating, "Make sure it doesn't happen again. We don't need his head getting any bigger than it is."

Ichigo appreciates that his friend has enough tact to sense that he would rather avoid talking. They part ways by the Student Center, leaving Ichigo to trek the slight uphill path to the Humanities building. He digs through his backpack and pulls out his earphones, plugging one into each ear. With the volume turned up, Ichigo tries to drown out his thoughts about a certain girl.

Since their last encounter, he hasn't seen much of Orihime in the library. It's been only two days but it's really beginning to bother Ichigo no matter how much he refuses to admit it. He finds himself eyeing the entrance when one o'clock rolls around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her walking through the doors.

And even worse, Ichigo can't help himself from overthinking their past conversation, contemplating how much damage his curt response could have done.

He feels helpless and stupid for getting all worked up over a girl he's sure has little interest about him.

_What the hell is the matter with me?_ he thinks as he enters the lecture hall and slips into his regular seat near the exit. It's one the few rpws that's nearly completely empty. One of the perks of being an athlete with an intimidating mug is that students tend to leave him alone and give him his space.

More irritated than before, Ichigo drags out his notebook and pen.

"Before we start," says the professor when everyone has settled in, "I'd like to see who has been keeping up with readings. So I'd like to have a pop quiz before we dive into _Othello . . ._"

"Goddammit," growls Ichigo.

**.**

…

**.**

Relief washes over Ichigo when class finally ends. With graceful athletic ability, he grabs his things and slips out, successfully beating the swarms of students.

Nobody gets in his way as he heads to the Research Center to meet up with Rukia. Although she had been smug about it, Ichigo's grateful that she agreed to look over and revise his essay for History. He's certain if he turned it in on his own he'd be joining Ikkaku and Shuhei by getting academic probation. Other than the shame and the razzing he'd get from his fellow teammates, Ichigo doesn't need Coach Ukitake on his back.

Cutting through the Life Sciences quad, Ichigo is surprised to spot auburn hair. For a second he thinks he's imagined it, a result from his constant musing about her. But then it wears off when he nears Orihime.

Maybe it's because he hasn't seen her in a while but she looks lovelier than usual. Ichigo notes that her complexion is paler but it only enunciates the color of her lips. The knitted cardigan and plaid skirt also compliment her figure nicely, legs long in a pair of winter boots.

Joining her outside one of buildings is a man with brown tousled hair and glasses. Much to Ichigo's displeasure, he's classically handsome with his charismatic smile and sharp jawline.

They're clearly in a deep conversation. It appears serious, causing Orihime's brows to pucker together at something the man tells her. This makes Ichigo slow down as he gets closer to them.

She's obviously not in distress or any immediate danger but Ichigo can't stop himself.

Orihime is in the middle of saying something when her gaze wanders and suddenly lands on him. "—oh, hello Kurosaki-kun~!"

Ichigo feels a pain in his chest at how her expression immediately _brightens_. She can't do that to him; she can't make him think he's special. It isn't fair when he's so helpless against her.

The man scrutinizes Ichigo when he joins them. Up close, Ichigo notices that the stranger is older than he originally thought, most likely a graduate student. Compared to his crisp button up and ankle-cut slacks, Ichigo can't stop himself from feeling a little lacking dressed in his soccer warm-ups.

"Aizen-san, this is my friend Kurosaki-kun," introduces Orihime cheerfully. "Kurosaki-kun, this is Aizen-san, my lab partner."

Aizen politely bows, posture straight but back stiff. "I wasn't aware you knew a _jock_, Orihime-chan," he says playfully but Ichigo detects a sour undertone to his words.

Orihime seems to sense it too. "Neh, but we met at Kurosaki-kun's job at the library."

Aizen arches a brow at Ichigo, evidently having difficulty believing such a thing. "Is that so?"

Orihime nods enthusiastically. "Un!"

"That's quite interesting," says Aizen with a smirk that gets under Ichigo's skin. "I guess the athlete stereotype doesn't apply to everyone."

"I guess not," answers Ichigo, glaring. He wants to say more and defend his teammates but for Orihime's sake he holds back; she suddenly looks uncomfortable, nibbling on her bottom lip, attention anxiously jumping between him and Aizen.

"Well," starts Orihime, addressing Aizen as she adjusts her bag's strap, "I'll review the results and run a comparison to last month's and e-mail them to you."

Aizen turns to her, offering a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Of course, Orihime. Sounds good."

Ichigo stares him down one last time before Orihime leads them away. He lets them round the corner of the building before blurting out, "That guy's an asshole."

He mentally reprimands himself for his language and his inability to keep his opinion to himself. Not only is it disrespectful to Orihime, it also supports Aizen's opinion of him as a thickheaded Neanderthal incapable of using his mind for a higher purpose.

Orihime's pace slows, forcing Ichigo to stop. His eyes widen when she bows to the waist, hair falling forward in a cascade of vibrant color. "Gomen, Kurasaki-kun," she says sincerely. "I'm so sorry that Aizen offended you."

_I really am the worst._ Ichigo immediately shakes his head. "No, no, it's okay Inoue. I didn't mean it like that."

She raises her head, doubtful. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Ichigo takes a moment to breathe. He doesn't want to mess things up even more. "I'm not upset or anything. It's just that his personality is a bit—"

"It can be difficult to handle," adds Orihime with a wane smile. "Don't worry, I understand."

Awkwardly, Ichigo rubs the back of his neck. Here is his, finally able to speak with Orihime and he still has no idea what to say. For God's sake he's an _English major_, words are suppose to be his thing.

"Where are you heading?" asks Orihime, pushing her hair behind her ear and away from her face.

"The Research Center."

Orihime resumes walking and Ichigo makes sure to keep his pace slow; every one of his strides amounts to two of hers. "To study?"

"Something like that."

"I see."

Ichigo peeks over at her when a silence falls upon them. She's looking down at her feet, lashes hovering low against the swells of her cheekbones. And suddenly Ichigo feels as though he just completed a round of sprints and a hundred sit-ups.

He clears he throat. "I haven't seen much you around the library."

His voice jolts Orihime from her thoughts. She peers up at him, large eyes blinking rapidly. "Oh, yeah."

She gives him another smile and Ichigo is beginning to learn that she has many different kinds, each one bearing a special meaning. This one feels a bit sheepish but warm nonetheless.

Orihime begins fiddling with the ends of her hair. "I actually had a Organic Chemistry midterm scheduled on Tuesday and then I had this review session for Calculus on Wednesday." She pauses and licks her lips. "I—I dropped by yesterday a little after three-thirty but you weren't there . . ."

Elation and relief fill up Ichigo's chest. But he tries to bury it back down, not wanting to get ahead of himself. There's no way she could've missed him like he missed her. "You did?"

She nods slowly, a light blush spreading over her face.

The edges of Ichigo's mouth curl up. "Sorry, for not being there," he says. "And sorry for being such a jerk last time."

Her smile broadens as she shakes her head in protest, hair fluttering around. "There's no need to apologize, Kurosaki-kun."

"You positive? 'Cause I have no problem letting you beat me up."

Orihime's eyes widened and then she starts laughing. It's bubbly and carefree, making her eyes crinkle up into crescents. "I don't think I'd do much damage," she giggles.

Ichigo uses this opportunity to examine her hands, grabbing her carefully by the wrist, fingers overlapping as they circle around. He's taken aback by how _soft_ she is, skin smooth and bones fragile. "Hmmm." He takes his time, running a thumb over her knuckles. "I don't know. These bad boys look like they can pack a punch."

"Don't lie," she says with another laugh, breaking free from his grip.

"Well, the offer still stands. The next time I do something stupid just hit me and we'll call it even."

"I don't think I could ever do that," she admits.

Ichigo nods, taking in how the light in her eyes dim. "You're right," he tells her, voice low. "You're too kind to ever hurt anyone."

Her blush deepens. "I suppose."

_She's beautiful_, thinks Ichigo. _And I'm so fucked._

**.**

…

**.**

Fifteen minutes late, Ichigo arrives at the Research Center where an annoyed Rukia awaits. Her violet eyes narrow when he takes a seat across the table. "Took you long enough," she says, tone haughty. "What? Did you get lost or something?"

Ichigo sighs. "Nice to see you too, Rukia."

"Whatever, moron."

He pulls out a folder and slides it over to her. "Here—I did it last night so I'm pretty sure it sounds like shit."

"You look like shit, too," she adds as she opens it and immediately begins looking it over. "You could have at least tried brushing your hair this morning."

Frowning, Ichigo leans back in the chair. "I had morning practice."

Rukia picks up her pen and crosses something out. "I can tell. Your outfit and bad mood gave it away."

"I'm always in a bad mood, though," he remarks, not bothering to stifle a yawn.

"True." A crease forms on her forehead as she reads a line. "Wow, are you sure you weren't drunk when you wrote this?"

Ichigo recalls opening up his laptop at eleven o'clock after a scrimmage match and trying to come up with something remotely smart. He'd stared at it the screen with tired eyes for about half an hour until he finally thought of an idea. "I might as well been."

Rukia gives him a disapproving look.

While she continues reading and editing, Ichigo takes advantage of the time and silence to rest his head against the table and try to nap. He thinks of Orihime's smile when she had promised to return to the library tomorrow. It actually makes him look forward to work, even if it means dealing with Keigo and his loud mouth.

"Okay," says Rukia when she's done, handing him his essay that's been covered in red ink. "It's not completely terrible but you'll need to revise the beginning. It makes no sense."

"Thanks," he grumbles, slipping it into his backpack.

"No problem."

Together they leave the Research Center, Ichigo walking Rukia to her Economics class as he heads to his discussion for American Literature. He half-heartedly listens to her complain about her Economics TA who seems to grade her harder than the other students.

"I think it's because he knows Byukyuya is my brother," she goes with a huff. "Which is completely ridiculous, honestly. Just because he thinks my brother is—_are you even paying attention to what I'm saying you punk?"_

"Hey!" exclaims Ichigo when she punches him in the gut. A lesser man would've doubled over. He nearly does too, especially because of the abuse he'd taken earlier with Toshiro. "What the hell is wrong with you, you damn midget?"

"You have this stupid look on your face," she tells him, arms crossed. "It looks like you're thinking too hard."

"I think you've insulted my intelligence enough today."

Rukia rolls her eyes. "You deserve it. Anyways, we're all meeting up today at eight to go get dinner. You're coming, right?"

"I don't know." Ichigo rubs the back of his neck, thinking of all the studying he needs to do. "I have all this homework."

"You're hopeless," she says. "Look, just try to get it done and text me or Renji later."

"Fine."

He leaves, wondering how Rukia can still find time to go out when he's barely scraping by. Then he remembers Orihime and how she's part of some research project and feels even worse.

_She must be really smart_, he muses, recalling the classes her mentioned earlier. _I'm an idiot with a crush on girl too pretty and too smart for me._

Ichigo's almost certain this won't end well for him.


	2. and he doesn't want to ruin it

**a/n:** it's a little after one in the morning and i'm just going to post this cause idc (which means it might suck and there'll definitely be typos)

once again, THANK YOU FOR ALL YOU SUPPORT it really means a lot to me that you guys still like my writing. i'm trying to get back into it and your support reminds me that i'm not all that terrible. really hope you enjoy this. and i'm going to try to get back to my other stories but it might take some time, i don't want to resume something when i'm not quite ready... anyways, this is my first update of 2015, so yay?

**rating:** T+

**warnings:** strong language

**disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

><p><em>like coming home<em>

**.**

**...**

**.**

When Ichigo finally returns to his apartment in the late afternoon, Sado's shoes are already settled by the doorway. In comparison, they're slightly longer and much more wider than his. After slipping off his old sneakers, Ichigo finds his roommate in the kitchen leaning against the counter with a dark blue mug in hand.

A sweet aroma fills the air and Ichigo follows it to the stove. "What's this?" he asks, lifting up the lid to one of the pots. He inhales a strong scent of cinnamon and sees a white and creamy liquid simmering.

_"Atole,"_ answers Sado, his native language rolling off his tongue naturally. Sometimes Ichigo catches him muttering to himself in Spanish and admires the sound of it, fascinated by the ways the words flow easily into one another. "It's something my mom used to make me for Christmas."

"It smells good."

"It tastes even better."

Ichigo pours himself a cup and then sits with Sado at the table. He takes a slow sip of the beverage and is pleased by the flavor; it's sweet and warm, the texture nice and thick.

"Like it?" asks Sado.

Ichigo nods. "It's delicious."

Sado prepares Mexican dishes whenever he's bored or homesick and Ichigo has no problem trying them out. They're always tasty, if only just a little bit spicier than what he usually eats. He wonders what it's like for Sado to lead double lives as a Japanese and a Mexican. Ichigo figures it must be tiring trying to keep up with both.

They're quiet as they finish their _atole,_ the silence comfortable and easy. It's one of the things Ichigo appreciates most about Sado; there's no need to exchange words or force a conversation. They can be together, not saying a single word, without feeling the least bit awkward.

When they're done with their drinks, Ichigo grabs both cups and takes them over to the sink to wash. "Are you going out with everyone tonight?"

"Dunno. Probably." Sado gets up and begins setting aside the leftover _atole_ into little plastic containers. He even saves a portion for Ichigo. "You going?"

"Not sure yet."

"You should come," says Sado. "It'll be a fun break from school and soccer."

"I don't know if I can afford a break."

Sado shrugs. He never pressures people unlike someone Ichigo knows. "Good luck telling Rukia."

Drying his hands, Ichigo sighs. He can already hear her condescending voice nagging him for bailing out of another hangout. If he doesn't go, this'll be the third time in a row (not that he really minded missing karaoke with Renji and Yumichika). And he has a strong hunch Rukia will show up at his doorstep and drag him along anyway if he decides not to go again.

Begrudgingly, Ichigo grabs his backpack, pulls out his homework and starts his readings. His textbooks are rented, so he has to copy things down onto a separate notebook instead of highlighting it. This takes longer and hallway through, Ichigo contemplates throwing everything against the wall.

At six o'clock his phone vibrates.

_You're coming, right?_

Ichigo stares at Rukia's text with a frown.

_No_, he sends, just to piss her off. Then adds, _Yeah, I'll be there._

_You better!_

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo puts down his phone and resumes his work. He'd rather take a nap than revise his essay but something tells him to just get it over with. So Ichigo opens his laptop and attempts to fix his introductory paragraphs. He has a habit of sounding wordy and it shows on the corrections Rukia has made.

After crossing out two lines, she had scribbled beside it, _Stop sounding like a pretentious asshole and get to the point._

An hour later, Ichigo revels in accomplishment when he completes everything. For once, the annoying voice reminding him of school is silent and it gives him the chance to relax.

"We should leave in half an hour," Sado tells him as he steps out of the bathroom, hair wet from the shower.

Ichigo knows Sado doesn't like being late, so gets ready in twenty minutes instead.

They take a cab to Shibuya and arrive at a BBQ place that's overflowing with college kids. Renji and Rukia are already standing outside waiting in line. And by the time a waiter sits them down in a large corner booth Shuhei, Toshiro, and Momo arrive.

Yumichika and Ikkaku show up just in time to place their order. They each shove their way into their seats, loudly blaming the other for making them late.

"I'm so hungry, I'm eating for three tonight," says Renji, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head.

"Just don't forget to pay your part like last time," adds Shuhei, shrugging off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. Behind him Ichigo notices a pair of girls giggling and trying to discreetly take pictures of him on their cell phones.

Renji's eyes narrow into slits. "What the hell, I always pay up."

"Hmm," contemplates Shuhei, barely realizing the attention he's gathering. Rather than get upset or make a big deal out of the whole thing, he raises a hand in acknowledgment and offers them a crooked smile. "Maybe that was Yumichika?"

Ichigo tunes out the escalating debate (which he's sure it was Ikkaku who skipped out on paying for drinks the last time they went out bar-hopping). He takes a moment to simply enjoy the fact that he isn't cooped up in his bedroom, stressing over all his responsibilities.

A sharp elbow aimed directly under his ribcage interrupts him.

Rukia smiles sweetly, demeanor innocent. "You finished everything, right?"

Ichigo glares but it's halfhearted. "Most of it."

She nods, pleased. "Good."

"Well, it's not like I had much of choice," goes on Ichigo, crossing his arms. With all the customers and the grills running the entire restaurant begins to feel warm and inviting. "You'd murder me if I didn't show up."

"True," admits Rukia without even slight evidence of shame. "But I only do it for your own well being."

Incredulously, Ichigo stares at her. "Threatening my life is a sign of friendship?"

"It is in my book."

"You're crazy."

The waiter returns with their side dishes and drinks that also include two large bottles of sake. Immediately Shuhei makes a grab for one and starts filling glasses for the entire table.

"If I didn't know any better," begins Toshiro, picking up his cup with a judgmental look, "I'd say you're starting to show signs of a raging alcoholic."

"Loosen up, Shorty." Shuhei hands Momo her glass with a flirtatious wink that has her giggling and Toshiro glowering. "I'm pretty sure you're the one who needs it the most."

"Then I hope you have someone else to take you home in case you get shitfaced again," snaps Toshiro as Momo nuzzles closer to his side. Just from her touch his stern expression relaxes, the wrinkles between his brows subsiding. "Because I'm definitely not."

Ichigo gets out of the waiter's way when he brings over the meat. He cuts them into smaller pieces while Sado uses the tongs to arrange them neatly across the grill.

"I call that piece!" hollers Ikkaku excitedly, pointing at a juicy slice sizzling at the center.

"Keep dreaming," scoffs Ichigo. "These are for me."

_"Heeeey,"_ wails Ikkaku and it makes Ichigo frown in disgust that a grown man can make such a childish sound. "Don't be that way."

Ichigo motions at the smallest piece. "That one's yours."

"You bastard."

Ichigo's eyes narrow. "I don't see you doing anything."

"God," hisses Ikkaku, scowling, "you're so freaking irritating, Ichigo, I swear. I don't know who I hate more, you or Renji—_Holy fucking shit, who is that?"_

Everyone jolts at the sudden exclamation and follows Ikkaku's line of sight. Yumichika whistles low when it becomes apparent that the waitress attending the table across the room is what caught Ikkaku's attention.

When Ichigo sees Orihime, he isn't sure what he wants more: to punch his friends or hide her somewhere far _far_ away. He's more inclined to the former, especially because it isn't Orihime's fault that she looks great in the work uniform. Plus, it allows Ichigo the opportunity to release his frustrations over his friends' stupidity.

Rukia kicks Ikkaku directly in shin, not bothering to hold back. "Stop looking at her like that."

He winces and nearly doubles over from the pain. "Like what?"

"Like she's a piece of meat instead of a person," clarifies Rukia as Momo nods along in agreement. "You're practically salivating."

"I can't help it," defends Ikkaku. "She's gorgeous."

Ichigo doesn't think twice about connecting his fist with Ikkaku's forearm, relishing the loud _smack!_ that echoes when he does. "Sorry," he says dryly as his friend unhappily rubs the newly forming bruise, "I couldn't help it."

Ikkaku in pain isn't enough to satisfy Ichigo, though. So he picks up the piece Ikkaku had been eyeing earlier and pops it into his mouth. He takes his time chewing and savoring the taste, and then grins. "Delicious."

_"You," _growls Ikkaku. "I hate you more."

**.**

**…**

**.**

The rest of dinner goes on like Ichigo expects. Yumichika, Shuhei, and Ikkaku try to see who can handle the most alcohol (it's Shuhei of course, he wins every time), Toshiro and Renji argue over the soccer stats of their favorite team, and Sado listens to Rukia and Momo discuss a certain class they both need to take for their major.

Rather than join his friends, Ichigo can't help the way his eyes continuously wander over to where Orihime is. He watches as she scrambles around with her co-workers, taking orders and carrying dishes back and forth. There's a couple of close calls where Ichigo thought she might trip or drop a tray but Orihime has surprisingly quick reflexes.

Ichigo can feel his body tense up when a rowdy group of guys arrive and Orihime is the one to tend to them. The way they look at her makes his hands turn into fists; they're not very subtle, openly staring at her chest.

"Hey."

Ichigo reluctantly turns away and meets Sado's concerned gaze.

"You all right?" he asks.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

One of table near theirs gets wiped down and becomes available. Orihime leads the group there to sit down and as she passes by, she senses Ichigo's gaze and spots him. At first she's startled, but that quickly fades away and her expression shifts into something warm, mouthing a hello to him with a gentle smile.

Yumichika catches this and arches a brow at him. "Friend of yours?"

"Something like that," grumbles Ichigo, taking a drink of his sake. It doesn't relax him like he hoped it would.

"That's a very pretty friend," he points out, reaching over and refilling Ichigo's glass. "I didn't know you knew any of those."

Ichigo makes a non-committal noise and then takes another shot.

When Orihime finishes sitting down the group of men, she hovers by Ichigo's table. Even in the plain black apron and skirt, she's lovely. It makes her hair color stand out, a long ponytail of red and brown that reminds Ichigo of summertime sunsets.

"Is everything okay over here?" she asks timidly, picking up the empty plates and offering to bring over more water. "Do you need anything?"

Seeing her up close makes Shuhei lower his glass and give her his trademark smirk. "Yeah, your phone number would be nice."

Toshiro is swift, smacking him upside the head with an open hand. "Please forgive this moron. He's had a little too much to drink."

Face red, Orihime waves it off. "N-No, it's fine."

"You sure?" presses Ichigo, pausing from his meal to analyze her reaction. "I have no problem kicking his ass for you."

Orihime nods, smiling in embarrassment. "It's okay, really!"

Ichigo picks up his chopsticks and takes another bite of rice while Orihime scurries on to the back to continue working. He keeps an eye on the nearby table, noting how easily they finish three bottle of sake between the four of them. As the night carries on, their voices and laughter grow louder and louder.

Ichigo's molars grind together when he sees one of the men drop his spoon on purpose to check Orihime out when she bends over to pick it up. He's about ready to get up out of his seat to do something but that's when his friends decide to leave.

They call over their waiter and each pay their share of the meal, Renji and Ikkaku pulling out the most amount as usual. Together with their stomachs full and wallets lighter, they amble their way out towards the door.

However, Ichigo lags behind the group and searches around for Orihime; she's at the main register counting cash with concentration etched upon her face.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Ichigo takes a deep breath and approaches. He keeps quiet and gives her enough time to complete the task before speaking. "Inoue."

She puts down the money and smiles at him. "Did you enjoy your meal?"

Ichigo nods. "It was great."

"I'm glad." She leans forward and Ichigo can smell faint traces of floral perfume. "The food here is really tasty!"

For a moment, Ichigo falters. There's a chance she'll take his suggestion the wrong way and it'll make a bigger fool out of him. But he can't shake off the feeling and pushes on. "What time do you get off of work?"

This surprises Orihime who blinks rapidly. "E-Eh?"

He clears his throat. "What time are you done?"

"Uh." She fidgets, pushing back a flyaway hair. "I'll be done in fifteen. Why?"

Swallowing, Ichigo holds her gaze and is stunned by how open it is. "Do you have a ride to get you back home?"

Realization dawns on Orihime and it makes her flush, the rosy color pretty against her skin. "Oh, um, yes, I do. I take the bus, so don't worry about it, Kurosaki-kun."

Ichigo frowns at the idea of Orihime walking alone at night. Maybe he's overreacting—it's probably true that she can handle herself—but there's a gnawing in his gut that has him thinking otherwise. He takes out two thousand yen and hands it to her. "Here, use it to take a cab tonight."

"K-Kurosaki-kun." Frantically, Orihime tries to return it, her small hands pushing against his. "Thank you, but it's okay, really. I'll be fine on the bus."

"Please Inoue, just take it." Ichigo glances over his shoulder and catches the man from earlier staring at them intently. "I'd feel much better if you did."

Orihime pauses and it seems like she understands what Ichigo is getting at. Chewing on her lower lip, she thinks things over one last time and after a second, she complies. "Alright," she says, with a bow. "I'll make sure to get home safe."

It makes no sense but Ichigo is still uneasy and he feels like a kid again, confused and at a loss as to why terrible things happen to beautiful people. "Promise me."

Even Ichigo can hear the plea in his voice, but it reaches Orihime, her gray eyes shimmering in the dim light. Slowly, she takes his hand and wraps her pinky around his. Her touch is soft, the kind that belongs to a nurse or a mother. "I promise, Kurosaki-kun."

This makes Ichigo smile and he can't stop it even if he wanted to. "Thanks, Inoue."

To his amazement, she turns redder, color spreading across the apples of her cheeks. He has to fight back the urge to cup her face. So before he can do anything really stupid, he reluctantly releases himself from her grip and leaves.

Standing by the curb is Sado, the rest of the group already gone. When he spots Ichigo, he hails down an oncoming cab. "Your friend okay?" he asks when they get in. "You looked really worried there."

Ichigo isn't shocked that Sado had seen what had been bothering him. Had it been Renji or Yumichika he might have felt embarrassed but he doesn't feel that way now. "I think so."

As he lies in bed that night, Ichigo stares up at the ceiling, hoping that Orihime kept her word.

**.**

**…**

**.**

The remaining weekend goes by in a blur of chores, homework, and soccer practice. Ichigo calls home on Sunday evening and spends a good ten minutes convincing Yuzu that he's eating right. Karin on the other hand just what's to know his team's ranking while his father harasses him about getting a girlfriend.

On Monday, Ichigo attends class feeling somewhat rested. He turns in his essay with his fingers crossed; if doesn't at least get a B, Rukia will never let him live it down.

He trudges to the library and greets Keigo with a grunt before falling into the chair at his desk. He takes a minute to stare at his backpack that feels heavier than usual and wonders if blowing off the next assignment for History would completely ruin his grade in there.

Ichigo gets to work, pushing a cart full of returns through the aisles and returning them back into place. With his headphones plugged in, he takes his time organizing shelves. A few times he winds up helping a lost student find an article or book they need.

A little after one-thirty, Ichigo catches himself stealing glances at the entrance. He realizes it's irrational to assume something bad might have happened to Orihime but he can't help it.

Just looking at her brings out his protective side. And it's not because he finds her weak—no, he's well aware that she's an adult—but she's so kind and sweet that Ichigo hates the idea of her getting hurt in some way.

He lays his head down against the table and watches students enter and leave the library. Most of them he recognizes even if he hardly speaks to any of them; Ichigo's learned who puts in their hours around this time.

Keigo pushes his rolling chair next to him. "You still alive, man?"

"Barely," answers Ichigo with sigh as he sits up. He runs a hand through his hair, certain it's even messier than this morning. Yumichika had offered to let him borrow some of his hair product but that didn't appeal to him—Ichigo was sure he didn't want to smell like tangerines.

Keigo pats his shoulder. "I feel you. I have a midterm for my philosophy class this week."

"You ready for it?"

"Not the slightest bit."

Ichigo chuckles slightly, appreciating his friend's attempt to humor him. "That makes two of us then."

A grin stretches across Keigo's face, reaching ear to ear when his gaze flickers past Ichigo. "Well, at least your Monday just got better. Look who's here."

Ichigo turns and finds Orihime arriving. She looks a little winded, her backpack full and a coffee and paper bag in hand. But nonetheless, she waves at him and Keigo.

"Guess you didn't completely fuck things up last time," says Keigo before returning to his desk.

Despite being clearly out of breath, Orihime remains cheerful as ever walking up to the main counter. "Hi, Kurosaki-kun!"

Her energy is vibrant and Ichigo can feel the affect she has on him, his shoulder's loosening and stomach tightening. "Hey, Inoue."

She smiles softly and then shyly pushes over the cup of coffee and the To-Go bag. "These are for you. I hope you like them."

Ichigo blinks at them before returning his attention to her. "Thank you but you didn't have to go out of your way."

Determinedly, Orihime shakes her head as a rush of blood slowly climbs up the thin column of her neck. "It's no trouble at all, Kurosaki-kun. I really appreciate what you did last night."

All of a sudden Ichigo feels the need to be embarrassed and has a hard time meeting her gaze. It's ridiculous really, he's nineteen. "It was nothing. I'm just glad you kept your promise and made it back home safe."

Her smiles are something Ichigo enjoys deciphering. He finds it endearing the way her mouth can tilt a certain way and express what she's feeling. This time it's rather bashful, curling tightly at the edges, but nonetheless warm.

"I had to," she tells him, a serious gleam in her eye that twinkles like dying stars. "We pinky promised on it, remember?"

He does, very clearly. Her finger had been so thin compared to his own, reminding him again how nicely he should treat her. Because Ichigo has never met someone as kind as her and he doesn't want to ruin it, doesn't want to break her in some way.

Ichigo grins a bit and it's so much easier to do when he's around Orihime. "You're right. Pinky promises are serious business."

She nods firmly. "Very serious."

He takes in her backpack that looks heavier than usual, wondering how it hasn't tipped her over. "I guess you're not here for pleasure reading?"

"No," she admits with a tinge of regret. "I have to squeeze in some last minute cramming before my Calculus midterm. Plus, I'm really behind on my lab report for Human Bio. So no space adventures for me today, unfortunately . . ."

There's a knot forming in the pit of Ichigo's stomach, growing tighter and tighter with every word. Being reminded how intelligent Orihime only makes him feel even more insignificant. He's not sure how she's real, with her gentle temperament, pretty smiles, and book smarts. It's not fair how put-together she is when he's struggling to keep himself from crumbling day by day.

"Well," says Ichigo, having trouble forming words. "Good luck with your studying. Try not to overwork yourself."

Orihime gives him a thumbs-up before heading over to favorite corner table. When she's out of sight, Ichigo opens the bag and finds a large chocolate chip muffin along with sugar and creamers for his coffee. As he starts adding them to his drink, Ichigo notices scribbles on the cup.

_Thank you for caring~!_

There's little stars and a smiley face surrounding the message but Ichigo focuses on the heart right next to it instead. It's rather silly to do so but he finds it cute and it makes his Monday a whole lot nicer.

**.**

**…**

**.**

There's really no need to reshelf the aisle nearest Orihime considering it's just a few books in the first place but that's exactly what Ichigo does when the end of his shift grows closer. He tries to be as subtle about it, keeping his head lowered and peeking over at her every other second.

His method is unnecessary. Orihime is so absorbed in her studies that Ichigo's sure that if he called out to her or dropped the articles in his arms she wouldn't even bat a lash at the sudden sound.

While Orihime reads something from her oversized textbook, she nibbles on her pen cap. It hangs there for a moment as she pauses to think about something and then returns to her hand so she write. Ichigo can't completely decipher what it is but it looks complicated, resembling some sort of chart or graph with equations tagged onto the bottom of the page.

Watching her work is different than watching her enjoy herself with a book. Today Orihime is more serious; there's a small crease between her brows and she taps her fingers against her temple when she struggles to understand a concept.

Ichigo can't tell which one he likes better.

He returns to the main counter and begins cleaning up, gathering his materials and stuffing his own notes into his backpack. He discreetly throws in the coffee cup as well. Right when he's about to tell Keigo bye and leave another familiar face walks in.

"No," says Ichigo automatically when Renji immediately makes his way over to him. "Leave. Go away."

"Don't be like that, you punk."

Renji has no sense of boundaries (or really, he doesn't care about protocol) and lets himself into the office section of the library, waving at Keigo like they're the best of friends. His hair is extra unruly today, matching his shabby attire that's most likely due to him skipping out from showering because of extra laps he had to do after morning classes for being too harsh on one of the freshmen.

"I've never seen you read anything other than game plans, let alone enter a library," snaps Ichigo. "So I know you coming here can only mean trouble."

Renji rolls his eyes. "Sorry I'm not a brooding book nerd like you."

"It's called being an English major, bastard."

"Whatever," dismisses Renji. "Look I need your help—"

"And I don't want to give it."

Renji glares. "You're extra pissy today."

"And you're extra annoying."

Renji's jaw locks and Ichigo knows he's getting under his friend's skin. "I need to write an analysis paper for my Ethnomusicology class and I have to have use the records from the school."

"That's interesting." Ichigo tries to walk past his teammate. "Have fun with that."

Renji grabs him by the forearm. "Come on, you work here. Just show me where this shit is."

"It's due tomorrow, isn't it?"

"The day after tomorrow."

Ichigo wants to punch Renji in the face. Not only is Renji risking his grades, he's endangering his eligibility to play in their upcoming tournament. And even though Ichigo hates to admit it, the team needs him on the field.

"You fucking owe me," growls Ichigo, yanking free from Renji and leading him to the staircase to the lower level where they store video and audio.

"I'll make sure Hueco Mundo stands no chance getting through our defense," says Renji arrogantly, following right behind. Despite not speaking at full volume, his voice carries throughout the library. "We'll be so solid you won't even have to block anything."

"I'm holding you to that."

It takes a second for Ichigo to realize Renji has stopped walking. He glances over his should and sees his friend staring at Orihime with a thoughtful expression.

Renji flicks his gaze back to Ichigo. "That's the waitress from Friday."

Ichigo doesn't say anything.

"You know her, don't you?"

Ichigo shrugs, trying to be as nonchalant about this as he can because he knows Renji isn't going to let this go. It's bad enough that Yumichika got an inkling over dinner. "Kind of."

Renji stands still for a moment and Ichigo hates that it's now when his friend decides to use his head for something other than receiving a soccer ball. His brows go up as a memory dawns on him. "That's why you smacked Ikkaku and looked like you wanted kill Shuhei."

Ichigo glowers but it has no affect, only making Renji grin in reply.

_"You like her."_

Both him and Ichigo wince. He doesn't mean to but Renji's accusation is much louder than they anticipated and bounces off the walls. They turn to Orihime's direction where she sits watching them with curious wide eyes.

He isn't sure how much of their conversation she's heard but anger rises up in Ichigo's chest. "Fuck this," he hisses, turning on his heels and avoiding looking at Orihime. "You can fail."

"What? No—!"

Ichigo's neck is on fire as he slings on the shoulder straps. In record speed, he clocks out and departs. He's halfway down the path that leads off campus when it hits him that Renji might still be at the library. Considering that he just blew him off, Renji could be tempted to speak to Orihime just to get back at him . . . Or maybe he went ahead and continued to search for the sources he needed.

Panic gets the best of Ichigo so he pulls out his cellphone and dials his obnoxious friend. His call goes straight to voicemail. And not even a minute later Ichigo receives a selfie of Renji and Orihime together.


End file.
